Friday, March 16, 2012

Rider Up

After fourteen years of motorcycle riding, I joined the ranks of those riders who have had an accident. luckily I not only lived, I walked away from the wreck.

THAT IS PRETTY FUCKING AMAZING.

How did it happen?

I was on my way home from taking notes at a Fight Crew scrimmage. I was going at a fairly leisurely pace in the #2 lane. I was 3/4 of the way home when I saw a car go sideways in my lane, brakes squealing. The three cars immediately behind it slammed on their brakes, swerved, and otherwise blocked my forward escape route. My choices at that point were to either hit the wreck or hit the brakes. I chose the latter.

That's when shit got RILL.

Ever go sliding across the freeway at approximately 60mph? It's fucking weird. I saw the bike sending sparks behind it as it slid on its left side. DAMMIT I JUST PUT GAS IN IT!!!!!!! I thought, as I slid along the ground next to the bike on my forearms and knees. This is where derby probably literally saved my life, because I've done a lot of conditioning and sooooooooooo many falls over the years that getting and maintaining a 4-point fall while sliding down the freeway seemed almost second nature.

I came to a stop just before reaching the wreck in front of me, but that's when I heard squealing brakes and loud thuds behind me. Shit. More cars got involved in the chain reaction of terror trying to avoid turning me into roadkill. I jumped up a la derby's, I'M OK! I'M OK! rule where the jam gets called off for medical reasons if a skater is lying on the track for too long. I was able to get up. I was able to walk. I was able to look around incredulously at the damage around me and say that I'M THE LUCKIEST PERSON IN THE WORLD AT THAT MOMENT. And then I almost hyperventilated myself into puking, crying or fainting or all of the above.

A list of other things to note:

Always carry your insurance card with you.

Good gear with Kevlar is important. And durable. Really, REALLY durable.

Never say you're alright after sliding on dirty asphalt. Keep asking if 911 has been called, and then call them yourself just to make sure.

Calling one's spouse to say one wrecked their motorcycle on the freeway is almost a dirty trick. Spouse feels helpless and is freaking out. Expect to repeat your physical condition and approximate location several times. Also expect to calm them down instead of them calming you down.

Take photos immediately. Posting on Facebook naturally follows.

People actually do care when provoked. They really do.

The EMTs and CHP officers were efficient and nice. I've never said Thank You! and meant it so much in my life! AND I got to sit in the FRONT seat of a cop car!

It doesn't matter how many lanes are blocked, how much carnage there is, there are some drivers who don't understand that when lanes are blocked due to an accident, it's not going to be all about them.

Don't think you're going to be home before 4:30am from the emergency room.

Don't think you're going to go to work the next day.

If road rash keeps hurting, go back to the doctor and get an antibiotic shot. The freeway is a dirty dirty place.

Is it wrong to think about a new bike when the old one hasn't been officially junked?

Don't EVER post about having an accident on Facebook without calling your parent/s or other loved ones first. I apparently took years off my mom's life when she changed her morning routine and read Facebook before I could call her to tell her I was OK.

But the thing that's getting me the most is the amount of calls, texts, and emails from my friends. It's been overwhelming, and it's good to know that people care. I'm thankful and grateful and humbled by the well-wishes. Pardon me, but...I think I got something in my eye. Dust. Yeah, that's it. Dust in my eye.

god, just reading about this again makes me want to give you a giant hug and tell you over and over I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE OK. man. You should also consider writing more. I was thinking to myself while reading this that you have a great knack for recounting stories :)

The ramblings, doodles, and misadventures of an animatin', roller derby-playin', drunk-doodlin', murdersickle-ridin' goofball woman in Lost Strangeles. You can try to shut me up, but it probably won't work.